


Pretty Wings

by WhoopsOK



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Dark Fantasy, Derogatory Language, Double Penetration, Face Slapping, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Masks, Monsters, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fact that they were still twitchy about this whole thing, trying to cloud the want he could see lurking in their eyes, made him think their morals weren’t nearly as loose as they thought they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Wings

“We’d give you some kind of signal from the jump, of course.” Sam said, and Castiel smiled behind his hand.

They’d been having this conversation for the past hour and he still couldn’t quite get over the embarrassed and slightly harried looks on the boys faces. They’d been fidgeting about and only skittishly meeting the angel’s eyes and, for some reason, that gave him a very deep sense of fondness for them. He knew they liked to trick themselves into thinking they were bad people for doing what they did, for _wanting_ the things they did, but Castiel would hear none of it. It was love that brought and held them here, and trust that made him ask for this. The fact that they were still twitchy about this whole thing, trying to cloud the _want_ he could see lurking in their eyes, made him think their morals weren’t nearly as loose as they thought they were.

Dean saw, and misread, his smile, getting flustered as he jumped to explain, “He means, we-we know the whole point is that it’s _not_ supposed to have a warning, but-.” He quieted when Castiel’s hand found the back of his elbow.

“No, I understand. I agree completely,” He assuaged, looking down as he moved his feet absently, “I was just smiling because he’s cute…”

At that, Sam blushed, coughing into his fist with a sheepish grin, “The feeling is mutual.”

“You two are gross,” Dean wiped a hand down his face with a sigh, “Look, the point is, if we want to go through with this, we gotta be smart.”

“You’ll still have full use of your stop signal,” Sam jumped in, “If it ever gets to be too much, just let us know and the game is over, no questions, no resentment, just-.”

Castiel slid off the counter, going to lean against Sam’s chest as the man warmly caught him around the hips, “You keep talking like you forgot that _I’m_ the one who asked for this. I want this, Sam,” He shrugged, “I may have had my suspicions that you _might’ve_ been a little more than willing to play, but…” He hummed when Dean slid up behind him, hands sliding half over his brother’s as he did.

Dean kissed the crook of his neck before whispering, “Thank you. Thank you for this.”

The angel nodded, leaning back against his shoulder and shutting his eyes, “What is the go signal going to be?” He asked, marveling at the little jolt of excitement that stirred in his gut, just imagining its use.

Sam leaned down to kiss him gently before whispering, “You pick.”

Castiel thought on it for a moment, pressing his tongue to the inside of his lips. His heart thudded a moment later, and he smiled tugging until the brothers were cheek to cheek so he could whisper to them both.

Sam tipped his head back to laugh as Dean groaned, “Cas, I fucking swear…”

//

Castiel tried not to dwell on the anxiousness of the planned event over the next few days, carrying on looking for cases and minding the bunker and enjoying his boys, same as always. It wasn’t until the Midwest suddenly when haywire and they had case after case for nearly a month that he was actually sufficiently distracted enough for the seemingly semi-permanent state of arousal he was in to die down. When they got back, tired and covered in ectoplasm, they all showered only to keep from sticking to the sheets and fell face first into their beds until well into the next evening.

The angel woke up to Sam shaking his shoulder, leaning over him fully dressed, “We’re running into town for a bit. Getting supplies. Dinner when we get back?”

Castiel nodded, murmuring his agreement as he stretched. He wasn’t allowed to cook anything complicated yet – thanks to an incident involving two pounds of burnt meat and a small oven fire – but they had at least one 15 minute frozen dinner left. He could navigate that fairly easily. Dean kissed his head on his way out the door as Castiel finally pushed to his feet. It was almost eight o’clock and since Sam and Dean were doing the shopping, he figured there was no reason to put on real clothes.

He dropped a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom counter, crouching with a groan to grab his soap from under the sink when he paused. He glanced about nervously even though he was the only one in the bunker, reaching behind the shower caddy. He’d forgotten he hid his dildo back here… Hadn’t had much use for it as of late, but then again, _recently_ they’d been too busy with cases to properly enjoy each other.

He stood with the thick, purple rod in his hand, considering. He’d have at least an hour before the brothers got back… With a guilty little jolt, he decided to not waste his growing hard on and free time. He walked into the bedroom, fishing under the mattress for the lube, before climbing back into bed. He laid out on his back, dropping the dildo against his side before he started to lube up his fingers.

Legs hiked up almost to his chest, he reached around his thigh to finger at his hole. His heart was already pounding as he slid the first finger in, sighing at the welcome intrusion. Yes, it’d been much too long.

He closed his eyes, rubbing a nipple gently with his other hand when one finger turned into two, making soft panting noises as he did. By the time he was at four fingers, he couldn’t keep his hand off his dick, squirting some lube onto his erection. He started tugging slightly every time his fingers brushed his prostate, making him jolt and moan. He almost loathed to remove them, even as he reached over to pick up the fake cock.

The dildo was a bit bigger than Sam or Dean, much to the boy’s occasional chagrin (though they were quickly quieted when welcomed to stick their fingers in alongside it) and textured to have a bumpy feel (Dean was fond of the term “Alien Dick”). Dean had bought it for him as a joke (most likely), but Castiel hadn’t missed the way the man swallowed when he found out Cas was using it. He groaned in memory of that night as he slid the dildo in, rearranging himself so he could jam it up further and still keep a hold on his dick.

He moaned, pumping the dildo with one hand and jerking his cock with the other. He didn’t need this to be long or glamorous, he just, _so close_ , needed to get the edge off from going so long, _so close, so close_ -!!

He jolted for an entirely different reason when he heard a crash from down the hall, followed by angry voices he didn’t recognize as Sam or Dean’s. He bit down on a hiss when he sat up suddenly, jarring the dildo within him. He carefully removed it before quietly rolling off the side of the bed, trying to stay quiet as he reached into the bedside dresser. A cold rush of dread shot through him when he didn’t feel Sam’s gun. He checked the other dresser and under the bed, finding them empty of all the usual weaponry. Had they honestly not returned them after all the cases??

He fumbled for his pants, tugging them on and pulling out, much to his disappointment, a small pocket knife. He walked quietly over to the door, pushing it open silently with his foot. The hallway was dark in both directions, but he could still hear two voices, soft and urgent, from the back of the bunker. He stepped out into the hallway, his breath shallow as his feet padded slowly down the hall towards the voices. He stopped at the end of the hall, gripping the little blade in his fist as he glanced around the corner.

His body sagged slightly when he saw the TV flickering out an old episode of Law and Order to an empty couch. He stayed where he was, however, trying to figure out where that banging-…

“Hey there.”

Castiel spun around at the gravelly voice that sounded behind him, stomach dropping to his feet when he found himself face to face with a Goblin. Its head dipped to the side, crinkling the bloodstained neck of the mask, “Did somebody order a pizza?”

Cas’ stomach couldn’t decide on relief, fear, or arousal, turning in such a confusing manner, that he couldn’t even focus to form words. It didn’t matter, though.

The moment he opened his mouth, the Goblin backhanded him.

The little pocket knife clattered out of his hand as he stumbled and crashed to the floor. He tried to make a grab for it, but suddenly a boot was on his shoulder, “I dunno, man. Don’t think he’s gonna give us too much trouble…” Cas whined as the boot ground down into his flesh, looking up to see a white, blood splattered blank mask tilted down at him, “He’s already shaking too hard to put up a fight.”

“He’s also too hard to pretend like he wants to,” The Goblin growled back, walking up and pressing the heel of his boot against Castiel’s erection, causing the angel to hiss and squirm. The pressure wasn’t enough to do any damage, but just enough to remind him exactly how close he’d been to cuming a few moments ago… And how close he still was.

Cas clenched his jaw, trying to stop his teeth from chattering, goading himself to put up a fight. He grabbed The Mask’s ankle, intending to twist out and roll away, but couldn’t even budge its leg. He kicked out blindly when he saw Goblin moving over him, but the thing just caught him by the ankle and the weight on his shoulder was gone.

He sat up, panicked and ready to throw punches but stopped abruptly when something cool pressed against his neck and he felt himself go lightheaded with fear. The Mask was crouching behind him, presence raising the hair on his neck as it whispered softly, “Move a muscle and I slit your throat.”

Castiel was too afraid to do more than freeze in response, breath hissing in and out through clenched teeth.

“See, now there’s a good boy.” The Goblin said grabbing him by the face hard enough to leave bruises, “You play along real nice and we might let you live, get it?”

The angel didn’t respond at first, whimpering when the blade pressed harder against his throat, “Yes! I-I under-…” He broke off when he was slung face first to the floor, a knee pressing into his back. A grunt punched out of him as his arms were twisted behind his back, “Pass me the- yeah.” Castiel’s heart thudded when he heard the ripping of duct tape behind him. He thought about struggling for a moment, but couldn’t get enough leverage to move properly.

The Mask folded his arms against his lower back, wrapping them in the tape so he couldn’t so much as pull his hands apart. The weight on his shoulders let up, but he cried out when he was suddenly picked up by his hair. He quickly pressed his lips together to quiet himself when Goblin’s hand came down hard against his cheek, “Keep it down! You want the neighbors to hear?”

He was dragged across the floor to the sound of their laughter, before being dropped unceremoniously against the coffee table; his chest falling roughly against the cold wood.

“Which hole do you want?” The Goblin asked as it kicked Castiel’s legs apart, pressing his face down into the wood.

“I’ll take the mouth,” The Mask responded, stepping over the table to sit with Castiel between its legs.

“Risky.” The Goblin observed, amused.

The Mask snorted, “Not really.”

Castiel tried to look fierce when the Mask grabbed him by the hair, forcing Castiel to look at it, but his resolve wavered at the sight of the angel blade in its hand. He felt tears spring to his eyes when the Mask rested the knife just against the corner of his eye. He leaned directly down into Castiel’s face as he whispered, “You bite me and you’ll never see again.”

The angel gave no response as the Mask pushed him back completely to stand on his knees so he could reach his own pants. Castiel flinched violently when he felt the scrape of a blade across his bare shoulders.

“So pretty,” The Goblin muttered, “I think I’d like to carve something nice back here…”

Cas felt flashes of hot and cold all over his body, the icy fear cursing the burning desire. He had no chance to respond, though, as Mask slid forward on the table and Castiel’s mouth watered, much to his shame. The Mask’s cock stood out proud and tall from its pants as Mask stroked it pointedly at Castiel’s face.

“Better make it good, angel…” It cooed, “I’ll be pissed if you waste my time.”

Castiel’s stomach was rolling with shame, with how much he wanted to take Mask into his mouth, but the shame made him hesitate a bit too long. He gasped when Goblin smacked him hard across the ass and Mask took that opportunity to force Castiel’s open mouth onto his prick. The angel gagged with the sudden intrusion pressed against the back of his throat, wishing he had his hands to push up and breathe. The Mask sighed something like “oh, yeah” rolling his hips into Castiel’s mouth.

He flinched when Goblin pushed the blade a little harder against his back, hard enough to leave long, stinging scratches in its wake. He could tell the Goblin was doing it deliberately, with some kind of intent, but couldn’t focus on making out the pattern while getting progressively more oxygen deprived.

At the distressed noise he made, the Mask let him up enough to draw in a breath only to mutter, “Suck it.” And Castiel did in earnest.

He swirled his tongue and bobbed his head, sighing in relief (loss?) when Goblin finally stopped cutting into his back. He yelped around Mask’s dick when the thing reached behind him to rake its nails through the mess its friend had just made of his back. When its hands made it back up it twisted his hands into Castiel’s hair, fucking his face so hard he gagged on each stroke, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Fuck yeah, ‘s fucking gorgeous, man.”

“Like it?” Castiel wanted to scream when he felt the tip of the blade reappear at his lower back, sliding over the fabric of his sweatpants to press against his crack. He tensed when the blade pressed the fabric against his hole, still raw and slick with lube from earlier. He clenched his eyes shut as the fabric stuck and dragged through the lube.

Goblin paused and Castiel broke in a cold sweat, “Hey, hold on…”

Castiel panted when Mask stopped thrusting into his mouth, holding him up by the hair and turning towards its friend, “Problem?” He asked.

The sound he made when the Goblin ripped his pants down was so pitiful, he immediately felt more embarrassed tears running down his face.

“Holy _shit_ ,” The Goblin breathed and Castiel couldn’t help but cry out when two fingers were suddenly shoved inside, scissoring him open, “Fucking whore’s already lose!”

“ _What?_ ” And The Mask’s voice was so dark and possessive, Castiel’s stomach turned.

“Yep,” Following its friend’s lead, The Goblin’s voice suddenly got tight and angry, too, “Appears our angel ain’t so angelic after all.”

Castiel whimpered when his head was suddenly jerked up, The Mask’s hand slapping him hard across the face, “Who was it? Huh?” It slapped him again, “I don’t like when people mess up my new play things…”

“Know somethin’?” The Goblin interrupted, and Castiel made an aborted yell when he felt the scrape of a blade against his balls, his dick leaking profusely.

“ _Please, no-!_ ”

“Shut up!” The Mask slapped him again before grabbing him by the throat, and turning to The Goblin, “What’s up?”

Two fingers suddenly turned into four and Castiel jerked forward, trying to close his legs, bearing down on the intrusion. He was shivering, forcing himself to be still when The Goblin moved his hand so the tip of the knife was pointed threateningly at his balls, “I think we could both fit.” He noted almost absently, and Castiel’s dick gave a painful throb.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried this before, on the contrary, his boys loved sliding in beside each other, hardly able to move it was so tight. But he got the distinct feeling, these _things_ weren’t going to be quiet as gentle with him…

“Think so?” The Mask replied and Castiel could hear the smile in its voice. It let him go and he fell face first into the table, “Guess we won’t be needing that mouth anymore…”

He heard the tearing of the tape again and as soon as The Mask lifted his head to place the tape over his mouth, The Goblin removed its fingers and shoved in its cock. Castiel screamed behind the tape, eyes rolling back as The Goblin’s hips pressed against his ass with an, “Ah, yeah, hole’s got plenty of room!”

The angel gasped as he was suddenly grabbed around the chest and shifted so he was straddling The Goblin’s lap, held down and impaled on his cock. He whimpered and shook, torn between wanting to fight to get away and angle himself _just_ backwards so The Goblin’s dick would hit him at the right spot.

He jerked when The Mask was suddenly in front of them again, directly between their spread legs, squirting a bottle of cheap bathroom lube in its hands, “Don’t wanna chafe.” It shrugged and then Castiel was howling as it shoved two fingers in alongside The Goblin’s dick. He thrashed and strained, but he couldn’t break free from The Goblin’s grasp, “Shut up, or I won’t use any!”

Castiel was clenching his jaw, painfully trying to bite back the wails trying to escape him as The Mask roughly worked him open, The Goblin shallowly rocking his hips, panting, “Come on, man…”

He was choking on a sobs when The Mask finally had all four of its fingers pressed in beside its friend’s dick, who was getting progressively more impatient, “It’s not gonna rip!” The Goblin barked, “Get your-!”

“Alright, alright! Move over!” The Mask shouted and Castiel would’ve flinched if he hadn’t been to tense to even move. He screamed when The Goblin shifted his hips up, jabbing directly into his prostate before pushing him off into The Mask’s arms.

The Mask spun him around so he was looking down at The Goblin, propped back on its elbows, “Have a seat, angel.”

And honestly, Castiel’s thighs were trembling too hard to hold him up much longer anyway. He groaned in relief when he allowed himself to sink down, The Mask guiding him back onto its friend’s cock.

“Yeah, good boy,” The Mask whispered hotly against his ear, and Castiel whimpered as its chest pressed against the scratches on his back, but said nothing even when the Mask’s finger’s slid in, too. “You’re such a good boy, you’re gonna live, aren’t you? We’re not gonna have to kill you?”

Castiel’s head fell back, his mouth would be stretched as far as he could get it if it weren’t for the tape.

The Mask’s dick was pressing up into his hole.

_There’s no way,_ was the first thought. He’s not prepared enough, he can’t be. He could still feel the soreness from where the Mask’s dick had bumped his throat, there’s no way…

But then he was screaming, the Mask’s dick stretched him impossibly wide, making him feel split open and raw. His whole body shook with it, but even as he screamed, his dick didn’t stop drooling, standing out red and angry from his pelvis, if somebody didn’t _touch_ him he was going to-…

No reprimand came this time, the Mask just groaning into his neck as it pushed further inside, “Oh, _fuck_ yeah…”

The Goblin chuckled breathlessly beneath them, “Whore’s loving it.” It sang, rolling its hips in small jabs, just the opposite of the Mask and Castiel was _dying_ it was working him just right, “Ain’t you?”

The words washed over Castiel without much meaning. He couldn’t focus on anything but the fullness in his ass, sobbing with the intensity of it. He was hurting so much but it was such a _good_ hurt the shame threatened to steal his breath. He choked when The Mask reached under his arms to twist savagely at his nipples, thrusting into him in harder strokes, “He asked you a question, whore.” It panted, “Do I need to get the knife?”

Castiel tried to hum something, but the twist in his stomach made him want to be defiant. He felt like he’d rather swallow his tongue than say- _he felt like his nipples were about to come off_ -

“ _Yes!_ ” He screamed, and it was muffled, but they had to understand.

“What was that?” The Goblin said and Castiel started to cry again when the base of his dick was gripped, the pain pulling him back from an edge he hadn’t known he was so close to. It was panting, it’s thrusting getting progressively more unsteady, “Are you a good whore or aren’t you? I want you to say it!”

“ _I’m a good whore!_ ” Though it came out a garbled mess from behind the tape, bouncing on a sob as he was fucked without consideration, the two creatures still laughed at him between their grunts.

“Yeah, you are!!” The Goblin shouted, laugh sounding drunk and ungrounded.

He let out a desperate sounding noise when The Mask bit down on his shoulder, growling before saying, “Dude. Dude, I can’t-…”

“Yeah, ok,” The Goblin answered breathlessly and Castiel grunted as The Mask suddenly pulled out of him. Before he could so much as register what was happening, The Goblin shoved him off, letting him land painfully on his side, battered hole now clenching around _nothing_ , before getting rolled onto his back. He whimpered as his arms were pinched under his own weight, suddenly reminded of the burning on his shoulder blades from where The Goblin had sliced him up.

When he opened the eyes he didn’t remember closing, he was looking up into their shadowed faces as they knelt over him, hurriedly jerking their cocks. He cried out when The Mask ripped the tape off his mouth, “Open your mouth, slut.” It said, and by the strain in its voice, Castiel knew it was close. He whined, but opened his mouth before one of them decided to reach for a knife again.

“Oh, _fuck_ , yeah…” And The Goblin was done, squirting hot cum all over his face and mouth, “ _Fuck_.”

The Mask let out a breathless noise that could’ve been a laugh at its friend, tugging more furiously. “Your aim sucks,” It panted and pumped its dick directly into Castiel’s mouth as it came.

The angel gagged as it’s cum slid salty and thick onto his tongue, The Goblin grabbed him by the cheeks, holding his mouth open, “Don’t swallow.”

Castiel half wanted to spit it back in his face, but then he heard a click behind him that made his blood run cold.

The pistol in The Mask’s hand took all his focus even as The Goblin hauled him up to his knees before the other. The gun leveled at his forehead and he felt faint as The Mask pushed to its feet, cock dangling shamelessly from the front of its pants. It was still out of breath as it spoke, “You have twenty seconds to get off or… well… You won’t like the other option.” It moved its leg forward, boot sliding between Castiel’s knees, “I’ll even give you a hand. Or a foot, I guess.”

The Goblin laughed behind him, “Idiot.” But then it pushed Castiel forward so he fell face first onto the floor beside The Mask, his dick trapped beside the end of his boot. He started to shake with the effort of holding back tears, humiliated and drooling cum and a bit of blood from where his lip struck the floor.

He winced when The Mask moved its foot impatiently, “I’m not going to ask you again!”

Castiel clenched his eyes shut, maneuvering with his shoulders and face on the floor – _like some kind of disgusting fucking bug_ – until his dick was resting on the smooth end of The Mask’s boot. He choked when he felt The Goblin’s hand savagely clap against his ass, “Come on, let’s see what you can do! 20! 19!”

The counting gave him a sense of desperation that hadn’t been there before and, even as tears poured down his face, he started to rut against the leather.

By 13 he had his forehead to the floor and was pumping his hips frantically, shame rising in him like a flood because he was getting off on this. He was getting off on the cum on his face, and the burning ache all across his back, and the _emptiness_ in his-…

He wasn’t sure if he was screaming or not at ten, but then again, he wasn’t really sure about anything. His orgasm hit without him being able to brace for it, having been on edge so long, he was sure it’d never end. When it did, his vision blurred out around the edges and he clenched himself around The Mask’s leg, panting and whining like a dog.

“…Holy _fuck,_ ” He heard from above him after a few moments, but he wasn’t sure where it came from. He winced when The Mask jerked its leg away, sagging down onto the floor as he tried to catch his breath. The room was spinning when the boot suddenly reappeared in his face, sticky with his cum.

“…Clean it up,” The Mask ordered, but its voice came out so awed and lost Castiel thought it was an actual person for a moment, lost himself in its familiarity. He jumped when it stomped directly in front of his face, reasserting itself, “I said _clean it up_ , whore!”

He could barely lift his face off the ground, craning his neck to lick at the warm leather. He was shaking with the effort when The Goblin grabbed him by the hair. He whimpered but let his mouth be forced freely across the boot until it shone with his spit.

He braced to be dropped back on the floor when The Mask’s boot moved out of view, but startled when The Goblin twisted his face around so he was looking directly into its mask. He wanted to at least look defiant, but he was too hurt, too embarrassed. This thing looking down at him, a being that used to be made of light and grace, drooling and in tears, was too humiliating. He felt a lump in his already sore throat.

“Yeah, this whore’s trashed,” The Goblin observed conversationally, putting Castiel face down on the floor, “We should hit the bricks before whoever fucked it earlier comes back…”

Castiel whined when the barrel of the pistol pressed against his temple, “No, please…”

The Goblin shushed him, “Hey now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Least we’re letting ya live.” The gun pressed harder against his head, “Don’t make us regret that, understand?”

The angel shook and cried, “I won’tell anyone, I won’tell I swear, just please, I-…”

“There’s a good slut.” The Goblin cooed, “Might have to pay you a visit again sometime…”

The Mask laughed somewhere further away, “Come on, man. We’re wasting moonlight.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” The Goblin patted his cheek before standing up and following its friend, “Later, angel.”

Castiel’s whole body sagged when he heard the bunker door slam shut, though he was still shaking. The world was narrowed down to the ache all over his body and the cold press of cement against his skin. His body hurt and he thought if he tried to move, to do anything outside feel, he might cry. It was only a few dizzying moments later when he heard the bunker door open a second time and Sam calling out his name.

His voice broke when he tried to scream out, “ _Sam!!_ ”

Castiel heard them running down the hall, but closed his eyes before they reached the main room.

“Oh jeez, Cas, look at you…”

Everything in him wanted to lunge towards Dean’s voice, but he was too tired to do as much as roll over, “Please…”

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, beautiful, we’re here now. _Cut._ ” Sam’s voice came warm and soothing behind him, one word and the scene was done, the world slowly righting itself. He flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder, “It’s ok. It’s all over. You’re safe now. Let’s get you out of this…”

The angel held perfectly still when he heard the flick of a pocket knife behind him, before the tearing of duct tape. His own sweat made it easier to peel off, but he still winced as it came away. His shoulders protested when he tried to pull is arms forward and Sam held him still, “Hang on a sec, go slow…”

He wanted to push away when Dean carefully pulled him up into his lap, he was _filthy_ , but he didn’t have it in him, especially not when the man started to gently brush his hair, “Nobody’s gonna hurt you now, angel. It’s ok. We got you.”

Castiel tried to hold back his tears, but couldn’t quite get a handle on himself, but Dean didn’t shush him as he started to sob into the man’s chest, “ _Thank you_.” He cried and he didn’t have to say for what. They’d done so perfectly, given him fear so real he doubted he’d ever forget it, what they’d done to him _for_ him. He was coming down hard only because they’d gotten him up so high. He was sniveling, his words a watery mess as he chanted, “Thank you, I love you, I love you so much, I-.”

“I know, angel, we love you, too,” Sam was there, kissing his face and Castiel reached back and clung to him, too. The relief he felt in their presences was almost as dizzying as his orgasm, the love he felt, _flooring_. He calmed himself as they kissed and stroked him, telling him how beautiful he’d been and how proud they were, because that had been so scary and so hard, hadn’t it? But Castiel had done so well and he was so good for them, they’d do whatever he wanted, he was their precious angel and his _heart hurt_ with how much he loved them.

When he finally managed to get his breath back, his body was limp between the two brothers, surrounding him so tightly nothing in the world could make him feel threatened. His vision was a little blurry from his tears as he finally looked up into their faces. They both gave him the same loving, and mildly concerned, half smile.

“Feeling a little better?” Dean asked, kissing his eye.

Castiel breathed out, “Yes, yes, I feel… floaty.” He settled on, and they sniggered, “Sleepy.”

“Let’s get you washed up and fed first, ok?” Sam said, stood taking Castiel in his arms.

The angel curled up into his neck, smiling at Dean as the man fell into step beside his brother and smiled at him. It wasn’t until the three of them pressed into the shower, praise and adoration falling on Cas just as steady as the water, that he was reminded – sharply – of the scratches on his back. He didn’t ask about it until he was sitting on the toilet while they rubbed lotion onto the irritated spots on his skin.

“I want to see.” He said, softly, and when the brothers looked up at him expectantly, he clarified, “My back, I mean…”

He felt a spark of affection when they suddenly looked at each other, Sam smiling faintly while Dean went pink and looked away with a cough, “Uh, sure, Cas.”

The blush confused him, of all the things that’d happened, _scratching_ surely wasn’t what Dean was most embarrassed about. He was further confused when Sam stood him up by his hips, kissing him as they side stepped so Castiel’s back was to the mirror, “He’s a little obsessed.”

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean swatted him as he leaned against the wall at his brother’s shoulder, pointedly looking down, “You said you wished we could see them, so…”

Castiel stood uncomprehendingly for a moment, before it finally clicked. He turned his head to look in the mirror, suddenly extremely thankful for Sam’s hands on his hips keeping him standing.

He lost his legs at the sight of the inflamed wings rising up on his skin.

#

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading... now, go do something wholesome.


End file.
